


A Long Road Ahead

by coyotedog



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, warning: abuse, warning: racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotedog/pseuds/coyotedog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of stories out there about Blaine's father. This one is about Blaine's mother. Inspired by Darren Criss' talking about being biracial and Filipino, and the fact that Glee would never tell this story. WARNINGS FOR RACISM AND DOMESTIC ABUSE</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Road Ahead

You stand and stand and eventually, turn and leave.

~~~

It is the third time you have been here tonight. You raise your hand to knock at the door. Stop. Lower your hand. Raise your hand again. Lower it. Walk away.

You have been hiding too long to risk everything now.

~~~

You never imagined how hard it would be, being married to a white man. When you first met Terrance, he was charming, funny, kind. The kind of man you had never thought you were going to meet. Now -- you’re not sure of anything any more.

But you haven’t been sure of anything for such a long time, it’s almost like normal now.

~~~

When you are 7 months pregnant with Blaine, you and Terrance have your first real fight. You want to name him Dominic, because it was your grandfather’s name, the one who helped you pay for college in the States. He has always wanted a boy named Blaine -- he even told you so on your forth date. You argue logically, keeping your voice even and stomping roughly on your over-dramatic emotions. Terrance hates when you get hysterical. But for every argument you have, he has a counter-argument. Finally it is too much, and you begin to cry.

Terrance pats you gently on the back. “You’re tired. This is putting too much strain on you. I’m sure you’ll see it my way in the morning.”

~~~

Your courtship was like a fairy tale. It doesn’t even sound real. Terrance loves to tell the story -- how he came in early for his economics class at the University of Ohio one day and literally ran into this beautiful undergraduate who had the most charming accent.

You don’t have an accent any more. Sometimes you say words wrong, but Terrance always corrects you. It’s good. It’s good to speak English correctly.

~~~

When Blaine is three, you take him back home to Manila to spend a summer with your parents. Terrance doesn’t come -- he has work, and besides, he doesn’t like travelling anyways. Being home is like a dream -- you missed the noise and the bustle of the city. You even missed the traffic and the crowds cannot dampen your spirits. It seems like everything is just as you left it. You wander around the streets you grew up and and eat isaw and lumpia and fish balls and dirty ice cream until your stomach nearly bursts. They don’t have any of these things in Ohio. Your mother makes you take an umbrella to keep your skin fair and chides you when you come back, umbrella unopened and skin already bronze, but you have missed the strong sun too much to care.

Your mother calls you Marimari and you’re surprised that the childhood nickname brings tears to your eyes. Terrance doesn’t like that nickname. He doesn’t even like your given name -- he calls you Mary, not Maria. Mary is a lovely name, but it’s not yours. But it makes Terrance so happy.

Your parents are proud of you and your job and your white husband and your impending citizenship. Your mother tells all the neighborhood about her daughter who lives in Ohio and married the nicest man, who has a lovely house as big as the whole complex and drives two European cars.

Blaine discovers a love of cebu mangos and papayas and crispy pata. It takes some persuading, but your mother convinces him to try sinangag for breakfast and now he asks for it every morning. Your father swears that he’ll be eating like a proper Filipino by the time he leaves. “He’ll love it,” he tells you. “ _Nasa dugo niya._ ”*

It is a summer that you will remember fondly for a very long time -- sun and beaches and good food, and most importantly your family. Everyone is charmed by Blaine, with his three year-old precociousness and his curls. For once, caring for him is not so draining, because there is always a mother or uncle or aunt there to smile at him, to distract him with new toys or tell you that you should take a nap and leave “ _Nonoy_ with us.”

By the time you leave, Blaine is eating tosilog for breakfast and begging for his grandmother to make adobo in halting, accented Taglish. He is dark from a summer spent running around with neighborhood boys and his cousins, and can’t wait to go back home and tell his friends all the cool things he did.

Terrance meets you and Blaine at the airport with flowers and a new toy for Blaine. He tells you how much he missed you and listens to all of Blaine’s stories. “Did you eat any good dog?” he asks, tweaking Blaine’s nose playfully. “Woof woof!”

You are hurt, although you don’t know why. It was only a joke.

~~~

Blaine loves to sing. When his little sister is born, he sings nursery rhymes all the time. Her name is Anna, which makes you and Terrance both happy.

It is too difficult to continue working and take care of two children. You will go back to work when Blaine and Anna are both in school.

~~~

Your sister Lucia comes down from California to visit you for Anna’s second Christmas. Blaine is six.

“It is too lonely here,” she tells you. “How many Pinoys live here? Five? Six? Terrance should transfer to California. Blaine and Anna should grow up in their culture.”

Lucia has not liked Terrance since he snapped at you during the rehearsal dinner for your wedding. They have bristled at each other through the entire visit, with you and Blaine keeping the peace. It is a big sister’s prerogative, you think, to worry. But she keeps reminding you of all of the things you are missing, so far from everyone, so after she leaves, you bring up the possibility with Terrance.

“This is so like you!” When Terrance gets angry it is like a volcano. You are never sure of your footing. You should have known this was a bad idea. “Do you have any idea how hard I work to make sure that we can live a good life? How many hours I put in while you laze around at home? And now you want me to uproot our entire life -- give up my career, of any chance of promotion, just so that you can take the kids to eat -- pickled fish and who knows what else?”

Timidly, you offer that you can go back to work -- you never intended to stop working altogether, just until the kids were old enough. Blaine is starting first grade next year, and Anna will go to preschool the year after. Terrance doesn’t need to support you on his own.

“That’s not the point! The point is that you’re being selfish, Mary!” Terrance is shouting, and you don’t know what to do. “I can’t take this.” He walks out of the room and a few minutes later you hear the car starting.

You are crying on the couch when Blaine comes and sits on your lap. “I love you, mama,” he says, clinging to your arm like a limpit. “Why doesn’t daddy want to move near Aunt Lucia’s?”

You forget sometimes how perceptive Blaine is, how much he understands. “Don’t worry, nonoy,” you say finally, reverting back to your private nickname for him. “It’s just a silly fight. Daddy will be back soon because he loves us.”

Blaine considers this with six year old gravitas and nods. He gets up carefully and makes his way to the kitchen on slippered feet. Before you know it, he is coming back with two mugs of warm milk and the bottle of vanilla you keep in the pantry. “Milk helps you calm down,” he says, repeating back to you what you have told him so many times on nights he can’t sleep. “But you have to put in the vanilla, I always put too much.”

Your baby is only six years old and he is already thinking of other people.

“Be happy, mommy,” he says, holding your hand like a lifeline.

You and he sit on the couch together, drinking your milk, until Blaine falls asleep on your lap, unable to stay up any longer. You stay up much later, staring out the window, looking for headlights and wondering what is going to happen now.

Terrance comes back, and you don’t move to California after all.

~~~

When Blaine is seven, he comes home and tells you that he doesn’t want any weird stuff in his lunchbox any more. The adobo and rice that he used to love now “tastes weird, mom. Can’t I have lunchables instead?”

Terrance backs him up. “He should eat normal food like the rest of the kids. We don’t want him getting picked on.”

When you try to talk to him in Tagalog, he sticks his fingers in his ears and sings. It is the first time since you married Terrance you have felt really alone.

~~~

It is much harder for a mother of two to get a job than a woman fresh out of graduate school. You look and look but everywhere turns you down. Terence comforts you when you cry. “You’ll find something.” His hands make soothing circles on your back. “I’m making more than enough to support us right now. There’s no rush.”

You never do end up going back to work.

~~~

Anna is six and Blaine is ten when Anna starts getting picked on for the shape of her eyes. She looks like your daughter, while Blaine looks so much like Terrance that you get asked if you’re his nanny when you two go to the grocery store.

Anna doesn’t have the same natural charm as Blaine. Blaine is funny and outgoing, talkative and animated, but Anna is shy. She is used to her brother taking the spotlight -- she doesn’t talk much and she hates being around lots of people. She is happiest on her own, exploring the backyard or practising her counting. You know she does not have as many friends as Blaine does, but you hope that the other kids will come to appreciate her quiet and her funny sense of humor as much as you do.

You don’t know how bad it is until the principal calls you one afternoon to tell you your son has been in a fight.

When you get to school, Blaine is sitting on the bench of the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and a mutinous expression. “It’s not fair,” he tells you. “I had to, mom. I had to. They were making her cry. It wasn’t right.”

It seems, the principal tells you, that some of the other first graders have been picking on Anna during recess. “She’s not like her brother.” The principal is a young man, younger than you are. He is new to the school, freshly graduated with new ideas on how children should be taught. He doesn’t punish the other kids. Instead, he says that the answer should be “education. Kids pick up what they hear, and in order to change their minds, we need to educate them. I think we should do a day on tolerance and multiculturalism, to prevent things like this happening again. Would you talk to your daughter’s class about her upbringing?”

My daughter’s upbringing is just like everyone else in her class, you want to snap. Instead, you take a breath and tell the principal that you’ll think about it.

Terrance is furious at Blaine for getting in a fight. “Gentlemen don’t get in fights,” he tells your son, his voice cold. “I thought I was raising a gentleman, but obviously I was wrong. A gentleman would go to a teacher with his problems, like the rules say.”

Blaine’s lower lip wobbles, but all he says is, “yes, dad. I won’t do it again.”

You are proud of your son for standing up for his sister, but you don’t know how to say it. “Listen to your father,” you say instead.

~~~

You always mean to take Anna and Blaine back to Manila, but somehow it just never happens.

~~~

You’re on the way home from picking Blaine up from soccer one day when he says “Mom I think I’m gay” in a voice so low you almost don’t hear him. You look up, startled, and see so much fear in his eyes that all the words die in your throat.

“Are you sure?” The words come out before you can stop them. He’s only twelve. Surely that’s too soon to know.

“I think so. I don’t know.” A car behind you honks and you realize the light has been green for a while now. Blaine isn’t looking at you any more, staring down at his cleats. “I’m sorry.”

You pull into a parking lot and hug him as hard as you can. “It’s okay. Nonoy, no apologies. Oh, baby, it’s okay.” You both cry, there in the parking lot off the main road. You feel shaken, down to the core. All the plans you had for your son -- that he would grow up, meet a nice girl -- maybe even (if you’re being completely honest with yourself) a Filipina, settle down close by, have a family, be happy -- they all are going up in smoke before your eyes.

~~~

You try to be as supportive as you can, checking out books and magazines to drown out the voice inside that repeats the preacher’s phrases you grew up with, the taunts you heard on the streets, the careless, cruel jokes your family used to make. You want to believe that it’s different here -- Terrance is always talking about how much more civilized the United States is -- but you still hear those whispers when a boy with pink nails tries to buy a copy of Cosmo in front of you.

You want to protect your son, but you don’t know how.

~~~

It’s Terrance who gets the call from the principal, this time, Terrance who calls to say that there’s been some sort of trouble at Blaine’s school and could you go see what it is, honey, I have to finish this years projection report by five and I just don’t have time for this. You put on your coat and drive, knowing in your gut that something is very wrong, that Blaine has not been to see the principal since his father told him gentlemen don’t get in fights, since he started solving his problems with words and getting fed up with Anna for not being able to do the same.

Blaine is once again sitting on the chair to the principal’s office, but this time he doesn’t look angry and mutinous, he looks scared, and when you sit down beside him you can see that he’s trembling.

The principal is sympathetic but says his hands are tied. “Boys will be boys,” he tells her, speaking like Blaine is not in the room, like he is invisible. “Maybe if your son was a little less...delicate.” It is a nice word, but you both know it is not the one he means, and you remember the way your uncle’s mouth used to turn up when you brought the neighbor’s boy over to play with your dolls.

There are many things you would have said, once, but your tongue has gone numb with disuse and you tell him that you appreciate his time and you’ll be on your way.

For the first time you can remember, Blaine looks at you with weary, jaded eyes and you know things are going wrong but you don’t know how to fix them. You have spent too long learning to be silent to speak now.

~~~

The boy you watched dance and sing in your parents’ flat, curls flying everywhere, eyes bright and smile gleaming, is disappearing more every day. He rarely tells you about school any more, and when you press, he just sighs and says “Mom,” and you fall silent because that’s all you know how to do any more.

It is only when he comes home with a word scrawled across his backpack that he tries to hide that you know that it’s time to do something. It’s past time to do something, because Blaine just looks away and says “it’s no big deal mom, it’ll come out with water. I’ll wash it myself.” As if it’s the backpack that’s the important thing.

You don’t know what else to do so you call Lucia that night from the study, even though you haven’t talked to her for four years, since your fight about Terrance. There is too much still floating in the air between you, too much said and unsaid, but Lucia is your big sister and you need her advice more than ever.

“Oh, Maria,” she says, and you know that if she were there, she would let you rest your head on her breast, the same way you did when you were small and she was the person who would solve all your problems. “Marimari, you have to do something.”

The words come out before you can even think about them. “Terence won’t --”

“Fuck Terrance!” Your sister goes from sympathetic to angry in a heartbeat. “I don’t care about Terrance! I know you never liked to make your own decisions, Maria Teresa, but enough is enough. This is your son! _Mahiya ka nga_ **!”

You are ashamed of yourself, and that shame is what propels you, what makes you get on the computer and search for answers you don’t have, to go to the guidance councilor at school -- her surname is Li and she smiles like she knows what your son is going through all too well -- and get paperwork and brochures and forms to present to Terrence that night.

Blaine looks at you in shock when you bring up Dalton over dinner (steak and potatoes, Terrence’s favorite) -- like he had long since given up on any help from you. You recite all your arguments calmly, just the way you practiced in the mirror, and you’re terrified of the fight that’s coming but you have to do this for Blaine. When Terrence agrees your knees feel weak with relief. You email Lucia to tell her the good news and try to pretend like the other thing she said to you isn’t burning a hole in your head.

“Leave, Marimari. I don’t know who you are any more. Why are you staying with a man who doesn’t even call you by your name? Come to California. I can help you get a job, and Blaine and Anna can go to school here -- the schools are used to kids like Blaine and there are lots of other Pinoys around. Why are you still in Ohio? Just...think about it, okay?”

You can’t leave. How could you possibly get a job on your own? What about Anna’s friends? How can you uproot your children from the only home they’ve ever known? It’s selfish to even think about it.

~~~

Dalton is magnificent. It’s only an hour away from the small stores and suburbs where they live, and yet it seems like another world -- stately buildings with fountains and marble staircases. The guidance councillor tells them all about Dalton’s zero tolerance policy, the support groups and clubs and excellent academics, and Terrance talks to her easily. This is his world, not yours and you know it when another parent tells you how well you speak English. Terrance doesn’t notice but Anna goes stiff beside you and you know that people are already telling her the same thing.

You wish you had answers for her. Instead you put your hand on her arm and take her to see the dorm where Blaine will be living during the week.

~~~

Things are easier now that Blaine is at Dalton, and for the first time you see glimpses of your old son in telephone conversations, “Mom, I got an A on my exam and Mr. Rhinehurst said I was doing really well for someone who’d just come to Dalton this year!” “Mom there’s this acapella group called the Warblers, and they’re having auditions and I think I might give it a shot.” “Mom I need another uniform shirt because I tore mine playing soccer, but on the bright side I think they offered me a spot on the team!”

You laugh and cheer him on and hug him every time he comes home, even though every weekend he’s more like a stranger. He’s cut his hair short, and now he’s slicked it back so that those curls you loved so much are trapped under a layer of crusty hair gel. He’s taken to wearing his uniform everywhere, even at home, and you miss the Blaine who would tumble out of bed and throw on a wrinkled t shirt and a pair of shorts, even though Terrance nods approvingly every time he sees Blaine and gives him a box of ties for his birthday.

But you don’t have too much time to worry about this new, strange Blaine because it’s Anna’s turn to have a hard time.

~~~

Your children have always been very well behaved -- both Terrance’s insistence and your own, because children should know how to respect their elders -- so it is a shock when you start getting calls from Anna’s teachers saying that she is being disrespectful and rude. Anna would never act that way, except when you ask her about it she rolls her eyes and tells you the teacher is overreacting and goes back to playing who knows what on the computer in the back room.

Anna has always been so quiet that it’s shocking just to hear her raise her voice, and you wonder who this changeling is in front of you who yells and gets in arguments with her teachers and with Terrance and refuses to back down. It’s like she has bottled up so much that now she’s exploded, and her words scald anyone who gets in her way. She has no patience for anyone any more and you get more and more used to intervening in fights between Terrance and Anna, in sending Anna to her room and taking the blunt of Terrance’s anger because she’s a child, Terrance, she doesn’t know any better.

Compared to Anna, Blaine is an angel, and you don’t pry too much, although you learn that his best friends are two Warblers named Wes and David, and that he thought about joining the GSA but just didn’t have the time.

~~~

Blaine comes home triumphant, bearing top marks in everything but math and a letter of commendation from the Headmaster saying how well Blaine has adjusted to Dalton life. He is the only one who can calm Anna down, and when he suggests that Anna could go spend a few weeks with Aunt Lucia, you nearly kiss him for relief.

In the lull of the summer, Blaine gets his driver’s licence, and Terrance buys him an old Chevy and helps him restore it, and you pretend not to notice that he is doing the same thing your uncle did once with your neighbor who liked to play with your dolls, only Terrance is more subtle.

“Do you wish I were straight?” you hear him ask his father. You are listening through the open kitchen window, cutting up -- tasteless -- vegetables to go with the -- bland -- chicken you’re making for dinner.

“It would be easier,” is his reply, and your hand clenches on the knife because all Terrance ever wants is what’s easy for him and suddenly you are angry, so angry you can barely see. But then it passes, and you’re left feeling empty, because this is all you’ve known for twenty years and you’re not brave enough to change it.

When Blaine comes inside his eyes are too old for his face and you do the only thing you can think of, you hand him the knife and tell him he might as well make himself useful if he’s going to hang around.

~~~  
Anna comes back from Lucia’s less angry but more determined, and you can see the same fire in her but it has a direction now. She doesn’t yell at her teachers any more, but sometimes she comes home stiff and angry and when she does she gets on the phone and talks for hours with someone on the other end. She is growing up now too, and where Blaine was eager to please and conciliatory, Anna is sharp-edged and brittle and you try and help her as best you can, and you try not to cry where anyone can see you because it is so hard, and you don’t know why God has chosen to give your children so many trials.

~~~

Your son is rapidly becoming a stranger to you, but you still can tell when something is bothering him, and one weekend he stays in the kitchen to help you cook. In between putting the pasta in to boil, he tells you about the boy from McKinley, and how helpless he feels, and how much he wishes he could fix things for Kurt, but that every time he tries he thinks he just makes it worse.

When he’s done, you give him a hug and try to tell him the best advice you can think of. “Just be his friend, Nonoy,” using the childhood nickname you haven’t called him for years. “You’ll figure out the rest. But,” the words are thick on your tongue, heavy with memories of growing up happy in a place where too many people outside your door had too little, of escaping to a country where nothing was as simple as it seemed, of a fairy tale wedding that turned into something else, of dinner parties and dry chicken and careful conversation where nothing is said, “there’s not an answer for everything, _Nonoy_.”

Maybe Blaine can read the thoughts on your face, because he just grips your hand and says, “I know.”

~~~

It’s Anna who finally breaks the silence that has characterized all your lives. You’d thought school was getting better, but here you are again, in another principal’s meeting, for another rebellious act. This time Anna called her history teacher a “bastard” and stormed out of the room.

“What is wrong with you?” you say finally, because this should be over now and you’re tired. You’re tired of fights and angry silences and Terrance’s explosive rage. It would be so much easier if Anna just behaved. “Why can’t you just be a nice girl for once?”

“What is wrong with me?” Anna’s voice is half choked and hysterical, the way it always is when she’s fighting back tears. “What’s wrong with you, Mom? How can you take it? How can you live in a town where there’s nobody like us, where people still tell you that your English is very good and say “nihao” to you on the street? How can you live near a place that --- that sent a Pinay girl to a crackhouse because they thought it was funny? I’m sick of it!” she yells.

“I’m sick of being called a chink and having people make gong noises when I walk in a room! I’m sick of being told that I have to marry Phillip Chang because we’re both Asian! And --” her voice breaks, and you know that the silence around the issue is breaking, that your daughter will not refuse to see because it is easier. Anna always liked doing things the hard way. “I’m sick of Dad doing it too! He doesn’t even call you by your real name, Mom! He wants you to be this perfect China doll and you’re not and I’m not and I hate it! I hate it!”

For the second time in your life, you pull over in a nameless parking lot and hold your child as she cries, and just like the time before, you don’t know how to fix this.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whisper over and over, rubbing her back and listening to her hiccup sobs of frustrated rage.

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” she says finally. You bow your head and blink back tears. Her words remind you of a command a chubby six year-old once gave you, so long ago.

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “I promise I’m trying.”

~~~

The next weekend Blaine stays out almost all night and comes back red eyed and suspiciously tired. You don’t say anything, but it’s clear from his shamefaced expression that he knows what you’re thinking anyways. You leave it be. He’ll beat himself up for it harder than you will anyways.

The next weekend he stays in the kitchen and tells you softly about how he tried going on a date with a girl named Rachel Berry. Finally, you say, “but Blaine, you said you were sure.”

“I know.” He isn’t looking at you, but even pretending to pay attention to the chicken his face is wretched, eyes over bright and mouth screwed up. “I just thought --” He shakes his head violently. “It would just be so much easier -- if I was wrong.”

The words feel like a slap of cold water, and in your head you hear Terrance telling Blaine “It would be easier if you were” and Anna sobbing because she was always going to be different, and she was never going to be enough, and something inside of you snaps.

“No,” you say, and it’s forceful enough that Blaine meet your eyes. “No,” you repeat. “Don’t you ever try to hide who you are again, Blaine Dominic Anderson. You are exactly who you should be, and don’t you dare let anyone tell you that you should chose what’s easy for them instead of who you are.”

“O-okay, mom,” he says with wide eyes.

 _Don’t make my mistakes_ , you want to say, but you’re still not brave enough.

~~~

You finally meet Kurt Hummel at the Warbler’s winter performance, and as you watch the two of them sing onstage you know that there’s more going on than just stage flirting. He’s not the Catholic girl you once hoped for, but...you watch the way your son’s eyes light up when he smiles at the slender boy. He’ll do.

Anna sees the same thing that you do, because the minute they come over, she starts teasing them. “Who’s your booyfriend?” she sing-songs, and Blaine turns bright red. You’re glad that Terrance had to work late today, because this is a moment you want to enjoy, and no one will be able to ignore Terrance’s inevitable steady disapproval.

The slender boy takes over for Blaine. “Kurt Hummel,” he says, and shakes your hand. When the inevitable comment about how you look nothing like Blaine never comes, your smile becomes genuine. Maybe this boy really is as wonderful as Blaine thinks he is.

To your secret joy, Kurt’s parents seem as uncomfortable in the Dalton crowd as you feel. Burt Hummel is a large man whose plaid hunting coat stands out sharply against a sea of black and navy suit jackets, and gets as many looks as you do standing next to Blaine.

“I feel so out of place,” Kurt’s step-mother tells you.

The smile you give her is more sad and bitter than you intend. “It never gets any easier.”

~~~

The problem is that it isn’t always bad. Sometimes Terrance comes home smiling and takes you out to dinner and listens to your stories about your day. Sometimes he puts his arm around you on the couch while you’re watching the news and you feel safe and warm, and you know he loves you.

It’s just that you’re not sure he’d love you if you stopped doing what he wanted.

~~~

Kurt leaves Dalton, but he doesn’t leave Blaine. You get used to hearing all of Blaine’s stories about him as you cook. Somehow this has become a routine, cooking with your son every weekend and hearing about all of the things that he’s done during the week. Sometimes you don’t even talk, you just cook, but you feel like you know your son a little more now -- like he’s not some handsome stranger who visits your house every weekend.

You’re making chicken pot pie when he laughs in the middle of chopping the carrots. “Do you remember,” he asks, shaking his head, “when I was little, and we tried to make that Filipino vinegar pork but I accidentally spilled all the salt in it and we had to throw it away?”

Of course you remember it. It was for a kindergarten festival called “Food Around The World,” and you had called your mother to get the exact adobo recipe to show off Blaine’s culture. It had been an all day cooking adventure, and when you’d finally tasted it and realized what you’d done wrong you and Blaine had laughed until you cried.

“I didn’t realize you remembered that.” You smile, remembering the way that Blaine had tried to convince you that it was actually really good. “We had to drive all the way to Columbus to get frozen Chinese lumpia and doctor them up.”

“At that little store where the old man kept glaring at you!” You both laugh. Terrance had been so annoyed at you for wasting all that food and gas, but it had been worth it to see Blaine proudly man the “Philippines” booth.

Blaine looks like he wants to ask something, but when you look at him, he just shakes his head and goes back to chopping. “That was fun. We should do it again.”

You blink. “But -- you don’t like Filipino food.”

“What?” Now Blaine looks confused too. “When did I say that?”

You smile softly. “When you were a kid, remember? I used to cook adobo or chicken curry on the weekend and give it to you for lunch and you begged me not to any more.”

“Oh.” When you look at him again, Blaine looks stricken. And guilty. “I remember you stopped cooking, but I don’t remember that.”

“Blaine.” He looks at you and you put a hand oh his shoulder. “You were just a kid.”

He rests his head on your hand and closes his eyes. “I know.”

~~~

Your birthday falls on a Saturday, but you don’t make any plans. Terrance is out of town again -- a workshop on leadership that has been on the calender for months -- but he promises to take you out when he gets back.

Anna says that she’s going to sleep over at her friend Kristie’s house, and you might be upset but you can’t not encourage her to ignore her friends. Blaine calls from school and says that Kurt’s parents would like to know if they’ll come over for dinner.

“Your father’s out of town,” you remind him, swallowing down the silly, inconsequential hurt you feel. “But you should go.”

“Why don’t you come?” Blaine asks. “Please?”

It’s not what you had planned for your birthday, but then, what had you planned? “Alright.”

The Hummel-Hudson house is very nice, although it is small and the paint is a little ratty in places. The lack of manicured lawns and gleaming shutters make you feel more relaxed. Blaine left earlier in the day, so you walk up the driveway alone and ring the doorbell, strangely nervous.

Kurt opens the door and you are assaulted with smells that are achingly familiar despite how long it has been since you smelled them. “What?” you manage, but he just smiles and leads you into the house, helping you out of your coat and hanging it on the hall tree.

At the kitchen table there’s a platter of adobo, and even a stock pot full of kare-kare. There is a huge dish of rice in the center, and all the places are set. A faded banner over the counter reads “Happy Birthday!”

“Is it all right?” Kurt asks worriedly. “Blaine told me you didn’t get much Filipino food, and we tried to make everything as best we could but we couldn’t get all the ingredients so it’s kind of make-shift.”

“It’s wonderful,” you manage to say, and you must look like a fool, but you can’t stop some tears because this -- this is almost too much, this is a kindness from strangers you’ve never expected.

Blaine makes a strangled noise and rushes over. “Oh god, mom, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” And somehow Anna is there too, hugging you, and out of the corner of your eye you see Kurt shooing his parents and gangly step-brother into the living room.

“What -- Anna?” She laughs and hugs you harder.

“You didn’t really think we’d all forget your birthday, did you? We had to say something so that we could surprise you!”

It’s all overwhelming and wonderful and when you finally get yourself under control and Kurt brings the rest of his family back in, you say “Thank you,” far too fervent and emotional than you should be. But Carole and Burt just wave you off.

“I didn’t do anything besides let the kids use the kitchen,” Burt says and Carole nods. “They couldn't figure out a way to get you out of your house so they asked if they could use ours.”

“Finn helped,” Blaine tells you, and Kurt snorts. “If you can call that help,” he mutters, and you smile up (and up and up) at the teen and thank him.

“I’m just grateful that Kurt’s letting me eat meat today,” Burt chuckles. “And salt!”

“Only because it’s a special occasion.” Kurt is clearly the king of the kitchen and rules his kingdom with an iron fist. Burt shoots him an amused, indulgent look when he’s not watching -- you have the feeling that you’re missing some piece of information, but you know you’ll get it sooner or later in one of Blaine’s stories.

“It’s, ah, very strongly flavored,” you point out before anyone can load their plates. “You might not like it.”

“Well, it’s not really about us, mom, it’s about you.” Anna, as always, doesn’t mince her words. “Anyone else who doesn’t like it can eat something else.” She looks at Kurt’s step-brother significantly and you have the feeling that some words might have passed between the two of them earlier in the cooking process.

Whatever else you might have said is forgotten when Anna says “Oh!” and starts rummaging through her bag. “I almost forgot.”

She hands you a jar that is -- to your surprise and delight, a jar of bagoong. There is a sticky note on top of it and you read it.

 _“Dear Marimari, you didn’t think that they got those recipes on their own, did you? Happy birthday, little sister. Love, Lulu.”_

You are blinking back tears again, but this time none fall and when you look up, you can smile and say, “this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

In the end Kurt’s step-brother makes himself a PB&J and Kurt himself eats very politely but not very enthusiastically. Burt and Carole surprise you when they both take second helpings of the kare-kare, but none of that really matters because your own children are eating the food you grew up with so must enthusiasm it’s unbelievable. Anna even eats her kare-kare with bagoong, and laughs when you are surprised.

“I went to go see Aunt Lucia last summer, remember? She said that I had to get used to eating all of the Pinoy food while I was there because she wasn’t going to make me mac & cheese until I’d at least tried everything.”

You are helping clean up (over everyone’s protests, but you didn’t help at all with the meal and you’ll feel useless if you do nothing) and talking to Carole about her work when you see Blaine stop Kurt in the dining room and mouth “thank you.” Kurt just smiles, and you think about what the conversation must have been to inspire this, and you’re so thankful that somehow Blaine found a boy that he loved that encouraged your son to make time-consuming food he didn’t even like.

You had always imagined that Blaine’s first boyfriend would be a man who would take your son and make him even more of a stranger than he already was. But this boy has made your son more like the boy you remember, the three year-old who danced and sang and was ready to love and protect the whole world.

~~~

You have a wonderful evening with Terrance when he comes back that ends in an angry fight because you hadn’t told him that Anna got in trouble with her history teacher again.

~~~

Somehow, you and Carole begin to see more of each other. You are always at the concerts and pep rallies that Kurt performs in, and she is always there with Kurt for Warblers’ performances. You both grumble about how you thought your children driving meant you wouldn’t have to do this any more, and you both know you don’t mean it. You and she stand together in the weak March sun watching the New Directions give a spirited performance and she smiles. “I know this makes me an uncultured person, but I’m so much more comfortable here.” You know the rest of that sentence without her having to say it out loud. Than at Dalton.

“Me too,” you say finally and are surprised that you mean it. People are still giving you odd glances when Blaine comes up to hug you, but no one’s asked you if you’re the nanny yet.

Carole’s friendship is like a treasure, and you hug it close to your heart so that no one can disapprove of it. Terrance wouldn’t like it -- he is always encouraging you to go out for tea with his boss’s wife. You hate that lady -- she always talks about all the countries she’s visited and how much better the U.S. is than all of them. Terrance makes a brunch appointment for the two of you, and you almost refuse but he talks you into it.

You were planning on having coffee with Carole that morning, so you call to cancel and end up telling her all about it. “Maria, don’t you think that’s really...manipulative?” she asks finally. Is it? It’s a word that you’ve never thought of applying to Terrance, but now you can’t get it out of your head.

~~~

Through all of Blaine’s trips to New Directions, you meet Monica and Eric Chang, Mike’s parents, and spend a good hour discussing the differences between mainland Chinese and Filipino Chinese food. It’s fun, and when they invite you to have dim sum with them, you agree and leave your kids to go have dinner.

Eric works in the hospital and thinks that he might be able to get you a job as a receptionist there, even though your nursing degree is so old it is almost prehistoric. “A few night classes and you can get your nursing back up to code and go back to work,” he says. “It’s not good for us Asians to sit around bored all day.”

You don’t know how to tell him you’re not Asian, you’re Filippina, but you appreciate the offer and it would be good to get out of the house again. The kids are older now, they don’t need you there all the time.

~~~

Terrance tries to convince you not to go back to work, and when he can’t, he gets so angry that you’re scared. For the first time you listen to him shout and your heart says this is not right, this is not right, this is not right rabbit-fast.

~~~

On your first day of work, you stand outside Terrance’s door, frozen. You slept in separate rooms last night, and he hasn’t spoken to you since Wednesday. You raise your hand to knock, stop, then lower it. Raise it. Lower it. Finally you turn and walk down the stairs.

In the mirror you check your scrubs one more time. You leave Anna five dollars for lunch money. The portrait of her in her favorite blue cotton dress stands over the sink, next to a picture your mom took of Blaine when he was in Manila. They both look so happy. In your head, you hear Blaine saying “Be happy, mommy.”

“I’m trying,” you say, and leave for work.

~~~~~  
 _*Nasa dugo niya._ = It’s in his blood.  
 _**Mahiya ka nga!_ = You should be ashamed!


End file.
